


It's Probably Me

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-10
Updated: 1999-05-10
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	It's Probably Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

It's Probably Me

# It's Probably Me
    
    
    By: Michelle Sinclair
    Rated PG.  Drama.
                                    
           If The Night Turned Cold And The Stars Looked Down
              And You Hug Yourself On The Cold Cold Ground
               You Wake The Morning In A Stranger's Coat
                          No One Would You See
                  You Ask Yourself, Who'd Watch For Me
                    My Only Friend, Who Could It Be
                          It's Hard To Say It 
                 I Hate To Say It, But It's Probably Me
                                 -Sting
                 It's Probably Me'--Ten Summoner's Tales
                                 *****
    Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police 
    stood at the side of a bed in Cook County Hospital in Chicago.  The steady
    beeping of the electrocardiograph was the only sound in the room.  He
    had to check periodically just to reassure himself that the man lying
    on the bed was still alive; still breathing.  Ben looked down at his
    best friend Ray Vecchio, lying there, lost somewhere between life and
    death.  It was almost 5 A.M. and Ray had been out of surgery for hours
    now.  Blood, Ray's blood, was still on him. It was caked on his hands,
    and on his red tunic and on the white shirt underneath.  Ray's blood.
    Everywhere. Ben felt the tears begin to come again, but he fought with
    all his will and kept them at bay.   Now is not the time for this,' he
    thought.   I must remain focused if I am going to catch the man who did
    this.'  But who was he kidding?  He had only one thought pervading his
    mind.  That thought was revenge. He felt a blood lust swell in his heart.
    He would pay for this.  Violent, ghastly thoughts permeated his mind.
    He was hard pressed to fight the images.  It was such a brutal scene
    to have to relive but he could not halt the 
    recollection and finally gave into it . . .
    
    He could still hear the shots ringing out.  Could still hear the screeching
    of the tires as the man sped away.  He had not pursued the man who had
    just made an attempt on his life.  He couldn't.  He had a more pressing
    matter to attend to.  He yelled for someone to call an 
    ambulance.  Someone had scampered off to do that for him.  But he feared
    the ambulance would never get there in time.  Ray lay in his arms, bleeding
    to death.  Ben knew this.  There was so much blood.  So much!  It poured
    onto the street, onto Ben.  Ray had slipped out of consciousness a minute
    earlier.  Benny had said "Ray, you shouldn't have taken those bullets
    for me.  They were meant for me."  And Ray had replied "You'd
    have done the same for me, Bento." 
    
    Now, there was nothing Benny could do as the life seeped out of Ray's
    body.  "Ray, don't you die on me," he implored.  He felt the
    tears begin to stain his cheeks.  It was his fault, dammit!  He had no
    one else in this world, only his friend Ray.  His red tunic grew redder
    still with the color of Ray's blood . . .
    
    "I am so sorry, Ray," Ben said as he again struggled to stop
    the onslaught of tears.  But soon he found his body trembling with sobs.
    He wept uncontrollably now.  "It's okay Benny, I forgive you."
    Ben felt his throat constrict with what he thought was Ray's voice. 
    But he looked down and Ray was still unconscious. 
    
    "Voices.  Wonderful," Ben moaned.  There was suddenly a figure
    standing beside him, staring down at Ray's body with him.
    
    "Is he gonna make it?" the figure asked.
    
    "The doctors are unsure at this time.  Apparently the odds are fifty-fifty."
    
    "Naw, I'd say more like 60-40 that he's gonna pull through.  I know
    the guy pretty well." 
    
    Ben looked for the first time at the figure.
    
    "I don't see how you could know more than the doc--RAY?"  Ben
    almost fainted.
    
    "I know Benny, believe me, I'm freaked out too."
    
    "I don't . . . you're . . . I mean aren't you . . . you aren't dead,
    are you?"
    
    "Nope, I don't think so.  Well look, that heart monitor's goin'
    pretty strongly.  I'm as confused as you are, Benny."
    
    "Ray, what are you doing here?"
    
    "Well, I wish I knew, Fraser.  Hey, you look pretty bad, Benny.
    You should probably go home and get some rest."
    
    "Are you serious?  I'm not the one in a coma, Ray, and you're giving
    me advice?"
    
    "Benny you gotta pull it together.  Forget about me.  You're the
    one in trouble now."
    
    "I'm the one in trouble?  Ray, I don't think you have a very good
    grasp on the situation."
    
    "Benny, he's not done yet.  He didn't want to get me.  He wants
    you six feet under.  And he won't rest until you're dead."
    
    "That's not important right now."
    
    "Not important?  Fraser!  There's a killer out there.  You know
    who he is and you're the only one who can stop him.  Now go do your 
    job constable!"
    
    "You're right Ray.  I have a job to do.  I must go now.  I'll see
    you soon."  Ben turned to leave and began toward to door.
    
    "Hey Benny?"
    
    "Yes Ray?"
    
    "70-30"
    
    Benny smiled faintly.  "Understood, Ray."
                                 *****
            When Your Belly's Empty And the Hunger's So Real
           And You're Too Proud To Beg And Too Dumb To Steal
                You Search The City For Your Only Friend
                          No One Would You See
                   You Ask Yourself, Who Could It Be
             A Solitary Voice To Speak Out And Set You Free
                            I Hate To Say It
                 I Hate To Say It, But It's Probably Me
                                 -Sting
                 It's Probably Me'--Ten Summoner's Tales
                                    
    Ben walked all the way home from the hospital.  The wind tore 
    mercilessly through his body.  But he didn't feel the cold.  He 
    could feel nothing actually except for a determination that burned so
    hot it might consume him if he wasn't careful.  When he got home, he
    showered.  He watched as Ray's blood was washed off of his 
    hands and slid down the drain.  He changed his clothes.  He didn't put
    on another uniform.  He dressed in jeans and a black polo shirt.  He
    put on his leather jacket and he and Dief left for the consulate.  Upon
    arriving at the consulate he waited outside Inspector Thatcher's office.
    She was a little surprised to see him there.  "Constable . . . I
    thought you'd still be at the hospital."
    
    "No ma'am."
    
    "Has there been any change?"
    
    "No ma'am."
    
    "Well, how is Detective Vecchio doing?"
    
    "He's holding his own ma'am."
    
    "That's good news.  Look constable I realize that this is a very
    difficult situation for you and I understand if you'd like a few days
    off.  . . . "
    
    "That will be unnecessary, ma'am.  However I would like permission
    to search for the man responsible for injuring D.t. Vecchio and bring
    him to justice."
    
    "No.  Absolutely not.  Let the Chicago police handle this Fraser.
    It's their job."
    
    "You don't understand ma'am.  I know who shot him.  I arrested him
    several years ago when I was stationed in the Territories.  His name
    is Paul Granger."
    
    
    
    "Granger?  The crooked Mountie?"
    
    "That's the one ma'am.  He killed two officers in the Territories
    and I brought him in.  He came here for revenge on me apparently.  I
    am responsible for Ray's condition.  It is therefore my duty to capture
    Granger."
    
    "I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop you, is there?"
    
    "Probably not ma'am."
    
    "Understood.  Proceed constable."
    
    "Thank-you ma'am."  He turned to leave.
    
    "Fraser."
    
    "Yes Inspector?"
    
    "Be careful."
    
    He nodded curtly and left.  
    
                                 *****
    Ben had been searching Chicago for three days for the whereabouts of
    former Mountie Paul Granger.  D.t.  Huey was assigned to the 
    case as well and he also had no luck.  But Ben knew that 
    eventually Paul would find him.  He wandered the streets, waiting for
    Paul to see him, to make his move.  There were times he 
    thought he'd glimpsed Granger in the shadows, but it was just his eyes
    playing tricks on him.
    
                    When We Set Out On This Journey
                   There Were No Doubts In Our Minds
                    We Set Our Eyes To The Distance
                    We Would Find What We Would Find
                    We Took Courage From Our Numbers
                     What We Sought We Did Not Fear
                Sometimes We'd Glimpse A Shadow Falling
                       The Shadow Would Disappear
                    But Our Thoughts Kept Returning
                       To Something The Boy Said
                           As We Turned To Go
                He Said You'll Never See Our Faces Again
                   You'll Be Food For A Carrion Crow
                                 -Sting
              Something The Boy Said'--Ten Summoner's Tales
                                    
    Benton returned to his apartment finally after searching all day for
    Granger. He knew he needed rest if he was going to be able to 
    bring Granger down.  He had called the hospital from the consulate. 
    Ray's condition had improved slightly and Ben would visit him the next
    morning.  He removed his father's diary from his locker and sat in bed
    and began thumbing through the pages. There was a knock 
    on the door.  His heart began to thunder.  Maybe it was Granger, maybe
    this was his opportunity.  He picked up his hunting knife and went to
    the door. He suddenly wished he hadn't sent Dief to spend the night with
    Willie.  He opened the door.  "Inspector." 
    
    "Fraser  . . .  " she said, noticing his level of undress.
    "I'm sorry to come by without calling."
    
    "I don't have a phone," he said, dumbfounded.
    
    "Yes, I know.  May I . . . "
    
    "Of course." He stepped back and she went in and he closed
    the door behind her.  
    
    "How's the search going?"
    
    "Slowly.  But he'll reveal himself soon."
    
    "Because he's coming after you."
    
    "Yes."
    
    "Aren't you . . . "
    
    "Aren't I what ma'am?"
    
    'Afraid,' she wanted to say because she was terrified for him.  
    
    "Cold," she said instead.
    
    "No," he replied.  He was in such a state of confusion and
    disarray that he was unaware that the fact that his wearing only a pair
    of white boxers might be uncomfortable to Meg.
    
    "I see.  What will you do when her finds you?"
    
    "What will I do?  I will capture him."
    
    "That easy, is it?"
    
    "It's not easy at all."
    
    "Ben I'm very worried about you."
    
    That lifted the haze a little, she never called him 'Ben.'  "I appreciate
    that ma'am but you need not be concerned."
    
    "I'm responsible for you.  If something happens . . ."
    
    "I am responsible for what happens to me.  Not you.  Inspector,
    if you're here to tell me to get off this case then I am afraid I am
    going to have to refuse."
    
    "That's not why I'm here."
    
    "Why are you here then ma'am?"
    
    "Just to . . .  make sure that you're all right."
    
    "I'm fine."
    
    "Are you?"  She reached out and put her hand on his chest.
    "Your heart's hammering."
    
    He flinched at her touch and backed off.  "Ma'am I think you should
    leave.  Please."  
    
    "Do you want to talk about it?"
    
    "No."
    
    "I know he's your friend Ben.  I understand the hurt."
    
    "You can't possibly."
    
    "I want to help you.  Talk to me."
    
    "I can't."  She put her hand on him again.  This time around
    his hand.  She could see him tense up.
    
    "Ben, what's wrong?  Are you afraid to be touched?  Afraid you might
    feel something?"  He was thinking about the time they kissed on
    top of that train while a madman had been trying to blow up 
    Chicago.  
    
    "I don't have anyone other than Ray.  He's the only friend I have
    in this world," he said softly.
    
    "He's going to make it."
    
    "Yeah, maybe."
    
    "He will.  And he's not the only one you have."  Their eyes
    were locked and suddenly he found her in his arms and his lips where
    
    against hers and they were riveted in a passionate kiss that seemed to
    reach all the way into the depths of his soul.  But as soon as it had
    started, it was over. 
    
    "I have to go," she said tenderly.
    
    "Yes.  Thank you . . . for . . . coming over."
    
    "I'll see you at the consulate.  Take care."  He watched her
    leave.  He didn't understand what had taken place between them just then.
    It was so out of character for her, for him.  He wandered over to the
    window and looked outside.  It was an oddly quiet evening.  Abruptly,
    there was an arm around his throat.  The grip was so strong he could
    scarce budge it.  He tried to escape.  It was almost useless.  Then he
    felt the cold steel of a gun against his left temple.
    
    "At last," breathed the voice.
    
    "Coward," Ben answered with a calm that surprised even himself.
    "This is the only way you know how to win, Granger."
    
    "You're right Benton.  I'm not the man you are.  We can't all be
    living legends."
    
    He heard the click of the gun.  "Will this make you happy Granger?
    Another dead man? Another corpse left in your wake?"
    
    "Is he dead?"
    
    "Who?"
    
    "That guy.  The one that took the bullets I meant for you.  I would
    say it was a waste of good ammunition but I so love the pretty 
    color of blood as it leaks from my victims."
    
    "You're insane, Granger.  You need help.  Turn yourself in now.
    There's still hope."
    
    "There's no hope for you Constable.  I'm afraid this is the end
    of your exalted career."  He squeezed the trigger.  Ben's heart
    stopped as he heard the shot.  But nothing happened.  Ben's blood ran
    cold.  All the color drained from his face.  All he could hear was the
    distant sound of Granger laughing maniacally.  "Blanks," he
    laughed.  Ben had to force himself to take deep breaths.  He was hyperventilating.
    He heard the gun clatter to the floor.  "Unfortunately for you this
    one contains the real thing!"  He had pushed Ben back and now took
    aim at him with a different gun.  "Sit!"  he ordered.
    
    "No.  Do it.  For once in your life don't be a coward and do it."
    As Ben spoke these words, he heard clicking of shoes on the floor in
    the hall outside his apartment.  It was Meg.  She was coming back.  Out
    of the corner of his eye he saw the folders she had left on his table.
    She knocked on the door.
    
    "Ignore it," said Granger.
    
    "Fraser?  Open up.  I left some files inside.  Fraser?" 
    
    "She knows I'm in here."
    
    "If you don't want me to kill your girlfriend too, you'll ignore
    it."  
    
    Before Ben could answer, the door began to swing open.  As 
    Granger swung and was about take aim at Meg, Ben seized his 
    opportunity and lunged at him.  He knocked the gun away and 
    struggled with Granger.  They exchanged punches for a time before Meg
    picked up the gun that Granger had just dropped.
    
    "STOP!" She yelled.  But the men didn't.  They were moving
    around too much and were perilously close to the open window.  Granger
    
    had Ben over the ledge, hands around his throat.  Meg aimed the 
    gun and pulled the trigger and shot Granger in the leg.  He reeled back
    from Ben in agony.  Ben was able to gain equilibrium and 
    deliver a final blow to Granger's jaw to knock him out.  
    
    "Nice shot ma'am."
    
    "Thank you constable."
    
    "You realize that you have fired a gun illegally and under ordinary
    circumstances I would have to arrest you ma'am."
    
    "Actually Fraser there are extenuating circumstances that would
    preclude you from having to do that."
    
    "Quite right ma'am.  You did save my life after all."
    
    "Let's bring him in, shall we?"
    
    "Yes ma'am."
                                 *****
            You're Not The Easiest Person I Ever Got To Know
           And It's Hard For Us Both To Let Our Feelings Show
              Some Would Say I should Let You Go Your Way
                        You'll Only Make Me Cry
                    If There's One Guy, Just One Guy
                Who'd Lay Down His Life For You And Die
                          It's Hard To Say It
               It's Hard To Say It, But It's Probably Me
                                 -Sting
                 It's Probably Me'--Ten Summoner's Tales
    
    It was two weeks later.  Ben was back in that cold white hospital room
    of Ray's.  But this time, the mood was decidedly more upbeat. Ray was
    recovering and had come out of his coma.
    
    "You're kidding me Benny.  The Dragon Lady saved your life?"
    
    "I'm not kidding Ray.  If not for the inspector I wouldn't be alive."
    
    "Well Benny, if not for you I wouldn't be alive."
    
    "Actually Ray, it's my fault you were injured in the first place.
    If not for me you wouldn't be here."
    
    "But you could've just left me in the street and gone after Granger."
    
    "And left you to die?  You think I could do that Ray?"
    
    "I don't know Fraser.  You're usually pretty determined to get your
    man."
    
    "I'm hurt Ray."
    
    "No Benny, I'm hurt."  Both men laughed now at Ray's little
    joke.  
    
    "Ray?  Do you remember anything about the time when you were in
    the coma?"
    
    "You know Benny, that's the weird thing.  I think I had this dream
    about talking to you.  Like an out of body experience, ya know?"
    
    "Yes Ray.  I know."
                                 *****
           When The World's Gone Crazy And It Makes No Sense
           There's Only One Voice That Comes To Your Defense
              The Jury's Out And Your Eyes Search The Room
              And One Friendly Face Is All You Need To See
                    If There's One Guy, Just One Guy
                Who'd Lay Down His Life For You And Die
                          It's Hard To Say It
                 I Hate To Say It, But It's Probably Me
                                 -Sting
                 It's Probably Me'--Ten Summoner's Tales
                                    
    The extradition hearing was over.  Paul Granger was being remanded to
    Canadian authorities and would be tried there for the crimes he committed.
    It had been promised that Granger would be severely 
    punished for almost killing an American detective.  Ben began to wheel
    Ray out of the court room.  
    
    "What do you think Benny?  What are the odds he'll get a life sentence?"
    
    "Well, baring a totally incompetent prosecutor . . . I'd say the
    odds are . . . 70-30."  Ben smirked as he said this.
    
    "70-30?  That's it?  Are you . . . "  Ray suddenly looked up
    at Benny.  "Did . . . did you just say 70-30?"
    
    "Yes Ray, that's what I said.  Something wrong Ray?"
    
    "No . . . no . . . just keep pushing me would ya?  I hate court
    rooms." 
    
    "Understood Ray," Ben said and the smile wouldn't leave his
    face. 
    
    1996 by Michelle Sinclair
      
    


End file.
